


Getting There

by Cherry_Sofa_729



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27315433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry_Sofa_729/pseuds/Cherry_Sofa_729
Summary: Tags and chapters to be added
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. What makes a Hero?

You’re not his hero. 

Roman sobbed weakly, grabbing the first pillow he could find and curling up with it. 

I thought I was your hero. 

Was. 

Was. 

WAS. 

Not now. Not anymore. How could he be a hero when he failed Thomas like this? A hero was ALWAYS supposed to succeed!

Roman was always supposed to succeed. 

He balled his fists up in the sheets, nearly tearing it with the force. He sobbed harder, throat aching as tears rolled down his cheeks. 

Black drops of mascara splashed on the pristine, white bedsheets patterned with little crowns. 

Crowns.  He didn’t deserve a crown! He wasn’t Thomas’s hero, how was he supposed to be a prince? 

He grit his teeth in furious anger, grabbing the sheets and tearing them as hard as he could, revealing the mattress underneath. 

He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve it. 

HE DIDN’T DESERVE IT!

He looked down at the pillow he was hugging.  _I need a hero!_ Was embroidered in red cursive. 

He  hated  that word! He hated anything to do with heroes, or princes, or Disney, or royalty, or ANYTHING!

Roman through the pillow across the room, head spinning as he looked around. Everything red, everything had a stupid little crown or sword or some STUPID FLUFFY DISNEY QUOTE!

He HATED it! He DESPISED it! 

He was going to burn it. He was going to burn it all down and then, then, he was going to crush the ashes so fine they couldn’t even be magicked back into what they used to be. 

Because Roman was never going to be a hero again. 

Roman summoned lighter fluid and a box of matches. 

“I don’t deserve! To be a Disney prince! All I deserve, is ashes and fire. I don’t deserve! To be a Disney prince! Because I fucking suck!” He sang, kind of maniacally, as he dumped lighter fluid on the walls, floor and furniture. 

He balled his prince uniform up in his hand and pulled hard. _RIPPP._ His costume ripped at the seams, tearing down the back and landing in rags at the floor. He emptied his entire closet, each royal suit and ballgown, and put it in a pile. Drawings. Disney DVDs. Disney merchandise and memorabilia. Paintings. Photos. All of it had to go. 

He took his sword from its sheath and slashed it through the pile. He brought it down again and again, tearing everything to shreds, the cold metal cutting through the remains of his stupid idealized life he though he could have. 

He poured a gallon of gasoline over the pile like chocolate syrup over ice cream. 

The only heroic thing left to burn was himself. He was worthless if he couldn’t be Thomas’ hero. He was worthless if he let Thomas go to the hands of Deceit. 

He was supposed to protect him. To be there for him. And he failed. 

Roman lit a match and tossed it into the pile, and watched everything he was go up in flames. 


	2. Smoke

The smoke and flames didn’t kill him. Of course it didn’t, sides can’t die. The ends of Roman’s pants were charred black, his costume in shambles, as he coughed up black smoke. At least he tried. He tried to make everyone’s life a little better. 

He looked around the ashes of what he was. What he foolishly believed in. 

A sob broke through his throat. He screamed, loud enough to block out all the thoughts yelling and chattering in his mind. 

He screamed louder, tears pouring down his cheeks, crying so hard his brain ached. 

He cried and cried and cried. For hours. Until he choked on his own breath and drowned on his tears.

There was a knocking on his door. He didn’t care. He just kept crying.

“Roman?” 

“Ro what happened?”

He tried to look up, but his eyes were full of tears and he couldn’t make out who was speaking. However, he wailed like a mother losing her child, grasping out for the speaker like they were a lifeline. 

He was drowning, drowning, drowning-

“Hey, hey, Ro, it’s okay. Just breathe.” He wrapped his arms around the speaker’s soft middle, plush like they were wearing something thick and comfortable. The speaker hugged him back, rubbing down his spine slowly and with great calm. 

“Breathe, Princey. You’ve gotta-“

“DON’T CALL ME THAT!” Roman screamed, pulling back away from the comforting presence of the speaker as though he had been burned. Well, more burned than he already was. 

“THAT’S NOT MY NAME!” He screamed, chest heaving. “THAT’S NOT ME!”

“Okay! Okay. That’s alright, we won’t call you that.”

Roman nodded, still shaking. 

“Come here.” Roman trembled as he walked forward, back into the speakers arms. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.” 

He didn’t feel okay. He felt so, so far away from okay. 

He took in shuttering breaths as he felt someone move his body to lean against a soft pillow. A tissue dabbed at his cheeks, before wiping his snotty nose. 

He felt like a child. But he supposed he deserved to. 

“Breathe, Ro-Bro.” Breathing. Right. He had to do that. He didn’t want to, he wanted his brain to go dizzy and his lungs to ache. 

Soon, he managed to calm enough to open his eyes. 

Virgil was on his left. Remus on his right. Both looked concerned in their smiling. 

He tried to croak out their names, but his voice was too weak from his wailing. 

“Shh. Don’t talk. We’re here for you, okay?” Virgil said softly.

They were… here, for him? Even after all his mistakes? Even after all he had done? To Remus? To Virgil? They still wanted to be around him?  


Remus put his hands on Roman’s shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes.

“Listen to me. Janus is a skank bitch. He’s a slimy, nasty, mean snake in the grass, and a lying sack of double dicks. Are you angry with him?”

“Yeah…” Roman croaked out. Though his anger was blinded by grief, it was stewing in his stomach the longer he dwelled and didn’t let it come out. 

Remus cocked his head. “Are you really?”

“YEAH! Why wouldn’t I be??!” Roman shouted, aghast. “He- do you know what he said to me?! He said I was EVIL! He made Thomas HATE ME! I can't even call myself a prince anymore! Not after what I did!" 

“Let it out, Ro. Get angry. You don’t need to keep up appearances anymore.”

A ball of furious rage built up in Roman’s chest, fighting, clawing its way up. Roman leaned his head back… and screamed. 


End file.
